


Grounding

by ficsandcatsandficsandcats



Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-02
Updated: 2020-05-02
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:46:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23960284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ficsandcatsandficsandcats/pseuds/ficsandcatsandficsandcats
Summary: Reader Request: may i request a fluffy hurt/comfort type thing of jaskier calming the reader down from a panic attack?
Relationships: Jaskier | Dandelion/Reader
Kudos: 17





	Grounding

You usually had some warning before this happened. Some identifiable stressor, some sense of foreboding, but the panic caught you unawares. One minute you were laughing with Jaskier before he went to retrieve his lute, excited to give you a preview of his new song, the next you were struggling to breathe. Your throat felt constricted and the lack of oxygen heightened your anxiety. You could feel your heart pounding furiously in your rib cage. It felt as though you were running for your life, not standing idly by a table in the corner of the tavern. The previously quiet space was suddenly noisy, every chair scrape and patron’s laugh harsher and louder than before. Your eyes sought something to focus on and landed on your hands, their trembling only reminding you of how little control you had over your body and mind in the moment and you felt trapped.

“Y/N?” Jaskier’s voice permeated the din of the tavern and your own labored breathing and you saw him walking up, lute in hand, his smile falling as he saw you. He put the lute on the table and rested his hands on your arms.

“Look at me,” he said soothingly and you did, his light blue eyes comforting but not stemming the tide of panic that continued to wash over you.

“Tell me five things you can see,” he said, voice a low, calm tone that you rarely heard. Your eyes traveled across the room and you began to narrate the things you saw.

“Um, your eyes, the ceiling, um,” Your voice trailed off as you tried to remember the word for the juncture where the ceiling met the support beam.

“You’re doing great, what else do you see?” he asked, gently refocusing you.

“Your lute, the table, my hands,” you finished, looking down at them, still trembling but held in his own steady hands.

“Perfect, what are four things you can feel?” he asked.

“Your hands,” you said, earning a gentle squeeze, “My dress, my hair on my neck, the air. No that’s stupid the air doesn’t touch anything.”

“The air touches everything it’s possibly the most correct answer you could give,” he argued and you laughed, your breaths slowing and evening out.

“What are three things you can hear?” he asked, his eyes watching as color came back into your face slowly, the hands holding yours subtly checking your pulse and finding it still faster than normal but slowly trending towards calm.

“What are three things you can hear?” he prompted.

“Your voice, my voice, ale being poured.”

Your answers are coming a bit faster, your thoughts sharpening a bit as the rushing sound of blood in your ears ebbs away.

“What are two things you can smell?” Jaskier asks.

“Cedar oil and straw.”

“Brilliant. Last question, please name one of the many wonderful qualities you possess,” Jaskier requests. You laugh, the pain in your chest easing as you inhale deeply.

“I’m better now, thank you Jaskier,” you say and move to hand him his lute but he gently pulls you back over.

“You didn’t answer that last one,” he insists.

“Jaskier I’m breathing, my heart isn’t beating out of my chest anymore, I’m ok,” you argue. You try to step away again and he twirls you back towards him, giving you an imperious look that broaches no further arguments.

“I have wonderful taste in companions,” you say, cheekily turning the tables on him. He squints and considers your answer for a moment and finally releases your hands.

“Very well… I will allow it on the technicality that it is a positive thing about you because the quality of your company is a direct reflection of your own attributes,” he says. You laugh and nervously tuck your hair behind your ear, the post panic embarrassment sinking in.

“Hey,” Jaskier says softly, “You know you can come to me any time if something is bothering you, right?”

“I do,” you answer, reaching up to give him a soft peck on the cheek, “I don’t know what happened it just… hit me suddenly.”

“Well that’s ok too,” he says, reaching for his lute and readying it, “I’m glad I was here.”

“Me too,” you smile, unknowingly inspiring the idea for a song he will perform for you in the following week, a lilting tune about courage in the face of invisible demons.

“Alright now this is just a preview so when I ask for notes I mean it,” he says seriously. You nod in agreement and the soft strumming of his lute and the sound of his voice washes away the last traces of distress leaving only peace in its wake.


End file.
